AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 25: On the Edge

(Jaxon's POV – He shows up at her office after a bad day, and things nearly cross a line.)

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The storm inside me has been brewing all damn day.

Every hit I've ever taken on the field, every fight I've ever had in my career—it's nothing compared to the frustration burning through me now.

Lillian's silence is killing me.

The way she's pulling away, the way she looks at me like she wants to say something but won't—like she's forcing herself to keep her distance—makes my blood boil.

I don't do well with limits. Never have. Never will.

And after today?

I'm done pretending I can.

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Bad Days and Worse Choices

Practice was a mess.

I wasn't even supposed to be practicing, not yet. But my knee felt good, and I needed to do something, so I pushed it.

Hard.

Too hard.

Coach ripped into me. Said I was being reckless, that I needed to be patient, that I wasn't as invincible as I liked to think.

Then came the press.

More questions about retirement. About whether I'd lost my edge. About whether I'd even come back at all.

By the time I left the facility, my head was spinning, my knee was screaming, and I knew exactly where I needed to go.

Where I shouldn't go.

But that's never stopped me before.

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Crossing a Line

Lillian's office is tucked away in the medical wing of the facility, far enough from the training rooms that I don't have to worry about anyone seeing me slip inside.

I don't bother knocking.

I push the door open and step inside, letting it slam shut behind me.

She looks up from her desk, startled. "Jaxon?"

I don't say anything. Just stand there, jaw clenched, trying to keep everything I'm feeling from spilling over.

Her gaze flicks over me, immediately taking in the tension in my shoulders, the way I'm holding my weight on my good leg.

"What happened?" she asks, already in doctor mode.

I exhale sharply. "Had a bad day."

She sets down her pen. "Did you overdo it?"

I shrug.

She sighs, pushing back from her desk and standing. "Sit down. Let me check your knee."

I don't move.

Not because I don't want to. But because if I sit down, if I let her put her hands on me, I don't know if I'll be able to hold back.

She frowns. "Jaxon."

I drag a hand through my hair. "Why are you doing this?"

Her brows pull together. "Doing what?"

"This." I motion between us. "Acting like there's nothing here."

She crosses her arms, bracing herself. "Because there can't be."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

I shake my head, stepping closer. "Screw the rules, Lillian."

She inhales sharply, but she doesn't back away.

"We can't," she whispers.

I exhale through my nose. "We already are."

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence.

And then—she looks at me.

Really looks at me.

And I see it.

The same storm raging in her that's been tearing me apart for weeks.

I take another step.

She doesn't move.

My pulse is a war drum in my ears as I reach out, my fingers brushing against her wrist.

She shudders.

Not in fear.

Not in hesitation.

But in want.

For a split second, I think she's going to let me pull her in.

That she's going to stop fighting it.

That she's going to choose me.

But then—she jerks her hand back like she's been burned.

Her breathing is uneven. Her eyes are shining. But her voice?

Steady. Controlled.

"Jaxon, please don't do this."

My chest tightens. "Lillian—"

She shakes her head, taking a step back. "You need to leave."

I feel like she just knocked the wind out of me.

I don't move.

I can't.

Her lips press together. "Please."

There's no anger in her voice. No sharp edges. Just quiet devastation.

And somehow, that's worse.

I nod stiffly, forcing myself to take a step back. Then another.

And then, without another word, I turn and walk out.

But as the door clicks shut behind me, one thing is painfully clear.

This isn't over.

Not even close.